Kathryn's Story
by Weasel866
Summary: An assassin from the secret order of Viz-Jaq'taar is sent to deal with a rogue sorcerer.


Deeply tanned arms outstretched over his head he basked in the sun and the cries of adoration below

Deeply tanned arms outstretched over his head he basked in the sun and the cries of adoration below. He stood on the stone balcony overlooking the muddy courtyard and looked down at his newly conquered people. If he bothered to look closer he would see the furtive looks. He might see the occasional terrified glance at his armored troops positioned around the parade grounds. If the sorcerer saw these things they were ignored.

The fear was temporary. It would pass. They would see Tutanamon was not an unkind ruler. No not unkind at all. He could be…benevolent. They would grow to love him. This brought a smile to the face of the sorcerer.

Turning his head he saw the two bodies hanging from opposite crossbars on either side of the balcony. The old rulers, Lord and Lady Balthanes. They hung naked and staring lifelessly upwards. Perhaps it was time to pull the bodies down. It was time to begin to win _his_ people over.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully he turned form the crowd and strode into the vast room in use as his office. The room served formerly as Lord Balthane's warroom. Four slave girls lounged on dozens of pillows before the finely carved fireplace. Abn Sul, his steward stood next to the desk in the western corner of the room. Abn Sul, was a thin nervous man but immensely useful. The steward was one of Tutanamon's few countrymen who had journeyed to the Middlelands.

The sorcerer considered the women momentarily and his loins stirred. He favored them with a smile, flashing white teeth. Devilish good looks, had given him power before he had learned the path of sorcery. Two of the girls were taken from the conquered countryside. Fair skinned and golden haired they were chosen for their beauty. Both had fought against his choice at first, but after examples had been made of their fathers they were much more biddable. The third girl was a purchased slave from the desert lands that were home to the sorcerer. She was a dark skinned savage, strong and fiery, but…flexible. It was said that she had been a member of the race of Amazon's, but Tutanamon had his doubts. Still it was not something that concerned him.

The last girl was new. An olive skinned girl from his homeland. Newly arrived that morning from a supply caravan. The captain of the guard had brought her to him as soon as they had arrived. The caravan leader had sold her for much less then what Tutanamon would have been willing to pay. Exotically beautiful she wore the silks of home which covered her arms, legs and veiled her lower face. Her eyes were lowered demurely in the manner of home. Her luxuriant hair hung to her waist and was bound with a single silk ribbon. This new girl intrigued him….excited him.

Turning from the room he examined himself in the former ladies full length mirror. Average height for the people of his land, but he had a smoothly muscled physique. A tattoo of writhing flames encircled his left forearm while a tattoo of arcing lightning ringed the other. His head was clean shaven as was his upper lip. A short well kept beard covered his chin.

Leaning forward into the mirror he examined what appeared to be a gray hair in the beard. No, it was just a trick of the light. "Abn Sul, leave." He sniffed as he gave the command in a distracted fashion. The steward hesitated momentarily, casting a glance at the papers in his hand, and another glance at the women. With a nod the steward turned and left the room. "Wine." Tutanamon said, and thrust his open hand out to the side. The four women hurried to obey, and four glasses were offered to him. He took the new girls glass as a small gesture to set her at ease.

Glass in hand he turned from the mirror. Inwardly his pulse began to race. This is power, he thought. His every whim answered immediately. Everyone ran to fulfill his every desire. His former masters…his teachers didn't understand this. The Vizjerei hid in their towers and their schools. Preferring to dig through moldy tomes and scrolls, they always sought power but never exercised it.

The path to real power…true power was through the Underworld. His new teachers were much quicker and more efficient than his old. The path to true power was far easier then the method of the Vizjerei. He had found the scroll in the forbidden section of the Dosjannah library. In secret he had performed the ritual. The rite itself had asked for some truly abhorrent steps…he could still hear the small child's screams at times. In the end however it had all proven worthwhile. Proof enough of that was his new kingdom.

His kingdom was only fifty leagues in any direction, but it was a beginning. The very idea of _his_ kingdom brought him a thrill. From the slums of Lut Shayein to the seat of real power. Personal power paled next to the power of a country. Sacrifice was required to reach these heights and he had gladly paid it. The old fools of the Vizjerei were unwilling to do what was necessary to rule, to gain real power.

"Dance," he commanded the women and they immediately obeyed. The barely hidden fear was there in the eyes, but he was obeyed. Each swayed seductively to unheard music. Hands slid suggestively along the nubile bodies. Arousal bloomed in the sorcerer at the sight.

Tutanamon lay back on the pillows and downed his wine in one long pull. Laying his head back among the pillows he watched his women dance. The very thought that these three luscious beauties were _his_, thrilled the sorcerer. They would of course be merely the first of dozens. No sultan or sheik had the power he wielded. It would only be right that his harem be of comparative stature.

Crooking a finger the sorcerer motioned for the new girl, his olive skinned beauty. It was time to sample her gifts…her treasures for him to explore. With no hesitation she walked slowly, sensuously towards him. The girl raised her silk covered arms above her head exposing her bare midriff. Slim strong hands moved through her luxuriant mane. The sway in her hips, her movements were intoxicating. Tutanamon could feel his blood burn. Sweat began to bead his brow, and his face became flushed.

His smile began to fade however. Her body had become hazy around the edges. With a jerk of his head he looked around the room and noticed that it was all becoming hazy. The fire in his blood he now realized was more then his arousal. A stabbing pain shot through his stomach. Blinding pain roared through his head like a spike. A glance caught the fallen wine glass on the bed of pillows and realization set in. Poison.

"Poison," the sorcerer groaned. "I have been poisoned." The last words were part shout part gasp of pain. Three of the women were backing away from him slowly in fear. The fourth girl, the new girl merely stopped dancing and watched him almost expectantly. A look of confusion crossed her face and was replaced by an annoyed frown.

The door burst open, two of his guards burst into the room. Each was dressed in chain mail armor of the locals and carried a long wicked looking pike. They cast looks around the room for the danger and then started to hurry to their ruler's side.

Hands moving in a blur the olive skinned girl jerked two silver spikes from the mass of hair on top of her head. The spikes flashed across the room and both guards fell to the floor. Blood gushed through the mailed fingers holding the wounds in their throats.

The guards had died almost too quickly for anyone to have seen, but they had given the sorcerer time to recover. Snarling, he thrust his right arm forward. A bolt of arc lightning roared from his palm towards the slave girl. Faster then Tutanamon would have thought possible the girl rolled to the floor avoiding the blast. The lightning blew the closed wooden doors off of the balcony out into the courtyard. The girl rolled to her feet hands flashing towards him. Muscle spasms kept the man from reacting as quickly as he would have normally but he still managed to avoid the fate of his guards. One of the spikes flew harmlessly by while the dug a furrow in his right shoulder.

"Who are you?!" Tutanamon demanded.

"_E teavanashi. Vu vahe duosani tahe swal om tahe Viz-Jaq'taar_!". The girls voice was barely above a whisper. Two more spikes were flung towards the now kneeling sorcerer. Whatever she had poisoned him with was burning quickly through his system however and this time he was able to fling himself forward so that the missiles clanged harmlessly off the wall behind him.

Rolling to his feet Tutanamon released another gout of lightning. Again his would be assassin moved faster then he thought possible. One of the three cowering slave women were hurled backwards by the blast. Slamming against the wall with a bone crunching thud the smoking body fell lifelessly to the floor. In dodging the blast the assassin had moved closer to her target. Feet and hands lashed out. Blows rained down on the sorcerer faster then he could follow them. Protecting his head with his forearms he felt a half a dozen blows strike his ribs and legs. Jumping into the air and spinning the girl fired another kick directly into his sternum. All the air was blasted from his lungs and he was knocked backwards onto his back.

Fear and rage gripped the man as he lay on the stone floor. He knew she would be stalking towards him and he had to act fast. Laying his palms flat on the floor he felt the magic flow through his palms. With a roar fire and lightning crawled across the stone floor directly towards the assassin. Rushing towards the prone man she was surprised to see the two walls of death roaring towards her. Leaping away again she narrowly avoided the blasts. Spinning in her dive she came up on her feet facing her prey, but he had already gotten to his knees. Tutanamon's palms rested on his thighs and were aimed towards her. Eyes widening she knew what was coming and lunged away from the prostrate man. Flame and lightning thundered towards her setting the room ablaze and killing the other two slave girls.

"Who are you?!" The sorcerer roared at her. Another blast of flame barely missed her. Lightning followed keeping her off balance. The walls of the stone keep were beginning to shake under the assault of the enraged man. Heat was beginning to drive the air from the room and she was sweating heavily. With one last glance towards Tutanamon she dove for the hallway and out of his line of sight.

Face twisted in rage the sorcerer walked slowly after her. The flames burning on the floor of the room parted leaving a circle around the man untouched. "I am Tutanmon, Sorcerer King of the new Cage Hills lordship. Soon to be ruler of all Middlelands, and eventually the world. You dare to make an attempt on my life?!"

Waiting just outside the door the assassin had lunged out and grabbed his forearm as he came through the door. Jerking him forward she launched another powerful kick into his midsection. With a twist of his wrist she slammed him heavily against the wall of the hallway. Pain blossomed in Tutanamon's face, he felt his nose shatter and a tooth fell from his open lips. Before he could begin to react pain exploded in his left hand. Twisting savagely the woman had broken all the fingers of his left hand. Realizing the danger he was now in he swung his other arm towards her and released the lightning again. This time she didn't move quite fast enough and the deadly energy grazed her right arm flinging the girl away from him.

Thudding heavily against the other wall she slid to the floor and lay still. Hand and face in agony Tutanamon leaned against the wall and watched her still form. He needed answers and hoped she was still alive enough to give them to him. One word in that statement of gibberish tickled the back of his mind. Viz-Jaq'taar. He had heard the word before and for some reason it was important. She would tell him more, she would tell him why it was important. Then before she died she would suffer for marring his person. It would be an example to all of those with such thoughts. Obedience would be rewarded, but disobedience would bring pain to be remembered.

Pushing off of the wall he moved to the prone girl and crouched down next to her. Cradling his broken hand in his lap he moved the other to her throat feeling for a pulse. As he felt the first beat of the pulse she struck. Her unwounded arm flashed out underneath his jaw. He had time to register the sound of steel rubbing against leather and the blade drove through his jaw and into his brain. His eyes twitched and the look of surprise stayed on his face as his lifeless body toppled over.

Kathryn pulled herself shakily to her feet. Her right shoulder was in agony. Savage blisters were already forming. Staring down at the dead sorcerer she slid her wrist blade back into the sheathe hidden beneath the silks on her left arm. "_Ustasi ase meadani, Tutanamon_."


End file.
